


Good Grief

by hanged_albatross



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, just some good ole' found family tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:46:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanged_albatross/pseuds/hanged_albatross
Summary: The Bad Batch has always walk the line between life and death- but this time they might have gotten a bit to close for comfort.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81





	Good Grief

_Comms check! Everyone still with me?_

Those were the first words Echo could hear through the high-pitched ringing. He slowly opened his eyes to take in his surroundings and was met by pitch-black. The visor of his helmet was covered in debris, making it impossible to see. The ARC blinked, trying to shake off the haziness to figure out who was speaking- and what the hell had just happened. 

_Come on, someone answer me._

As feeling started to return to his body, Echo felt an uncomfortable pressure pushing down on his back. Whatever it was made it difficult to breath. He didn’t panic- his training wouldn’t allow for it- and tried to move from underneath the crushing force. The sudden motion sent a jolt of pain down his spine. 

_I swear, you all better sound off right now!_

It was Hunter speaking, Echo realized, but the Sargent’s voice was void of it’s normal, calm authority. Echo could hear as panic crept into every word, making it sound like a complete stranger was talking. 

_I need to get to my feet, now. I need to move,_ Echo though desperately, _Somethings wrong- he needs help. I need to keep moving._ No matter how sideways a mission went, Echo had never known Hunter to get _scared._ So whatever situation they had gotten themselves in, it had obviously gone bad in the worst way possible. 

So Echo gritted his teeth, braced himself for the pain, and tried moving again. First, he wiggled the fingers on his mechanical hand. Once they responded, he moved his hand and then the entire cybernetic arm. His range of motion was limited but he could feel the dirt and stone and metal that his body was tangled within. When he tried to move his other arm, Echo found that it was pinned down at the wrist. It didn’t hurt, but he could feel a warm liquid beginning to pool under his fingertips. 

_Well that can’t be good,_ Echo thought and tried to figure out his next play. He couldn’t move or speak, he couldn’t see, and it was becoming more and more difficult to breath. 

_Please, someone please answer me-_ Hunter’s voice was becoming more and more desperate with every plea. _Please, I can’t be the only one-_

“‘m here, Sarge,” Crosshair’s voice suddenly cut through the silence over the comms. “I’m here.”

Hunter let out a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank the Force. Where are you? Are you alright?”

“Dunno, I got hit pretty hard,” Crosshair replied, his words slurred, “ ‘can see that graffitied wall we passed on the way in. It's partially collapsed.”

“Don’t move- I’ll come to you. You’re just outside the blast radius.”

 _That's right- the explosion,_ Echo began to remember the hazy details that had led him to the current situation. 

The Bad Batch had received orders to track down a rogue scientist who was selling her new weapon plans to the Separatists. They had easily tracked her down to a hotel on a Separatist-occupied Outer-rim planet, and had completed a bit of recon before Hunter made the call. It was going to be a simple snatch-and-grab when the scientist left the hotel lobby to go make the deal. But what their initial intel briefing had failed to mention was that it wasn’t just the weapon schematics in her possession- it was an entire functioning bomb. 

As soon as she realized she was cornered, the scientist armed the bomb with a flip of a switch and said with a smirk, “At least I get to kill a few more Clones”. 

The bomb was in a highly compact package- no larger than a pen- but more powerful than a hundred cannon blasts. The Bad Batch had just enough time to clear the lobby and scramble for cover before the explosion flung them like rag-dolls across the city square. The last thing Echo could remember was the familiar feeling was being lifted off his feet and slammed into something hard. 

“Hey, Cross,” Hunter said softly, “You look terrible.”

“Not looking too great yourself,” Cross replied with no real bite behind his words. “Help me up- we need to find the others.”

“You’re in no shape to move on that leg."

“But-”

“This isn’t up for debate. Did you see where anyone else went?”

“I think Echo was on my left. He can’t be too far away.” 

“Alright. Put pressure on that wound. I’ll be back,” Hunter said, “Echo- if you can hear me, I need a sign or a signal. Anything.”

Realizing that it was now-or-never, Echo took as deep of a breath as he could manage and shifted onto his side. Pain racked his body when the weight on his back dislodged and slammed into his ribs. He could feel bones crack and what little air he had taken in was forced from his lungs. But it gave him enough reach to press the comms button on his pinned wrist. 

And with what strength he had left, Echo managed to say one word. _Help._

Echo hadn't noticed he blacked out until something hard hit his chest plate. His eyes fluttered open to a streak of white light piercing through the rubble. And when the shape of another person appeared through the haze, Echo instinctively reached upwards with his cybernetic arm. 

“Don’t move,” Hunter’s voice was audible without the comms. “Don’t move Echo- I’ll get you free.”

“Can’t- breathe,” Echo choked out. 

From the corner of his eye, Echo could now see the large metal beam that was holding him down. That's when he realized that without the reinforcement of his cybernetics, he would most likely be dead.

“Just relax and stay awake,” Hunter said, the calm that returned to his voice sounded forced. “Don’t speak, just keep tapping your finger.”

Echo complied, gently moving his finger as Hunter began to carefully move the debris. It was clear that Hunter was working as fast as he could without causing any further damage, but every second that ticked by felt like an eternity. Finally, his Sargent reached Echo and crouched next to him to examine the full extent of the damage.

“This isn’t going to be pleasant,” Hunter grimaced, then placed a reassuring hand on Echo’s shoulder, “But stay with me, okay?”

Echo nodded, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. He considered himself to have a higher-than-average tolerance for pain, considering everything he had been through. But now, as the adrenaline that had previously flooded his system began to fade, the extent of his injuries were becoming more apparent. 

Hunter drew one of his knives and started at Echo’s pinned arm. A large piece of re-bar had impaled clean through his wrist and into the ground. With expert precision, Hunter cut through both ends of the metal, reducing it to about an inch on either side. Once free, Echo’s hand involuntarily jerked away and caused him to yelp in pain. 

“I need to free your legs before I can pull you out,” Hunter explained as he moved out of Echo’s view. Echo winced as a weight was lifted from his legs. The sensors in the cybernetics must have short-circuited, because all he could feel after was a slight tingling sensation running from the soles of his feet to knees. “Good job. It’s almost over, I promise.”

Black spots danced across Echo’s vision and his chest was burning. He continued to weakly tap his finger, but the time between each movement was becoming longer and longer. 

Hunter wrapped his arms underneath Echo’s and said, “I braced that beam the best I could, but we’re only going to have a few seconds. Ready? One, two-” 

In one fluid motion, Hunter dragged Echo from underneath the crushing debris.

As soon as the ARC was able to draw a deep breath in, it left as a bone chilling scream. It felt as if his chest was filled with hot, molten lava. He could hear Hunter mumbling _I’m sorry, I'm sorry,_ over and over again but he didn’t stop until Echo was completely clear of the rubble.

Slowly becoming lucid, Echo felt himself being gently lowered to the ground. When his helmet was removed, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright afternoon light. And then, he could see that he had been placed next to Crosshair, and Hunter was standing over them, trying to catch his breath. They both looked worse for wear- Crosshair’s right leg was a mangled mess and blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth, splattering on the dusty ground.

Taking a close look at Hunter, Echo was surprised that the Sargent was still standing. His chestplate was buckled inwards at the left shoulder, and a shard of metal was embedded into the armor. Hunter deftly took off his own helmet, revealing that his long hair was matted with blood from an unseen wound. 

“Echo, are you still with me?” Hunter asked, kneeling next to Echo and placing a gloved hand underneath his jaw, feeling for a pulse. 

“Uh-huh,” Echo rasped. “Where’s Tech? Where's Wrecker?”

“I’ll find them, but I need to get you stabilized first,” Hunter replied, pulling a fresh med-kit from his pack. 

“Don’t worry about me- find them.”

“Relax, brother,” Hunter replied, pulling out a hypo-needle. 

In the rational part of his brain, Echo knew that Hunter was trying to help. But the pain and exhaustion made it difficult to think clearly, and the sight of a needle made Echo panic. During his time with the Techno-Union, nothing good ever followed an injection. So the ARC Trooper raised his wounded arm in an involuntary reflex to try and shield himself from whatever misery was to accompany the needle. Hunter’s eyes filled with hurt as he gently pushed Echo’s arm back down and brought the needle to his neck.

The effects of the sedative were immediate and Echo’s eyes grew heavy until he was finally consumed by darkness.

* * *

Echo wasn’t sure how long he was under, but when his senses returned he immediately recognized that he was breathing in the cool, recycled air of the Havoc Marauder. But it was quiet- the only noise was the slight hum that indicated that the ship was underway. That struck Echo as odd- it was never quiet on the ship. There was always the background noise of idle conversation, or the caff machine running, or Tech typing away at this datapad. 

He opened his eyes to see that he was laid out on the couch in the common room. His upper half had been stripped and covered in bandages, while his lower half was still in dirty armor. On the ground next to him, laid on his stomach on an emergency gurney, was Wrecker. His back was covered in strips of bacta, and the larger clone was unnaturally pale. Both of their blood-covered armor was strewn haphazardly across the room. 

“Wrecker?” Echo called out, his voice hoarse, but Wrecker didn’t stir. The ARC would have thought him dead if it wasn’t for the faint rise and fall of his chest. 

The door leading to the cockpit opened and shut, and then Hunter was at his side in an instant. The Sargent was still in full armor, minus his helmet, with the shrapnel dug in deep. His left arm was suspended in a makeshift sling, but that seemed to be the only aid he had received. Blood was starting to streak down the left side of his face, caking on the un-inked skin. 

“Echo, are you awake?” Hunter asked and gently held his uninjured hand. 

Echo nodded, “Where’s Tech? Is he-.”

“Everyone is here Echo, don’t worry. We’re going to be okay- we’re an hour away from a GAR outpost with a medical team. They know we’re coming.”

That did little to comfort Echo- the fact they were having to get help at all was concerning. The Bad Batch had gotten rather skilled at patching each other up in their small make-shift medical bay. Having to go through official medical officers involved a lot of paperwork and a lot of questions- both of which Hunter avoided like the plague. 

Anxiety rising, Echo began to worry about not being able to actually see Tech or Crosshair. Logically, he knew that they were there because Hunter had said so, but the inability to actually see for himself caused his heart rate to spike. 

“I need to see them,” Echo said, trying to sit up, “Need to make sure-”

Hunter gingerly pushed Echo back down. “They’re in the sleeping quarters- they were the only two I could get into the bottom bunks. Those two are also in much better shape than you and Wrecker.”

“What happened to him?” Echo asked, motioning towards the large Clone.

“I found him buried under ten feet for rubble, with Tech underneath him. The big guy used himself as a shield,” Hunter sighed. “Tech got himself a pretty bad concussion, and Cross’s leg is busted up. But we’re all still breathing.”

“What ‘bout you?” Echo said, softly tapping on Hunter’s chestplate. “You need to get some bacta on that now.”

Hunter shook his head, “I’m fine- just a scratch. I’ve cut myself worse shaving.”

Echo could tell he was lying- between the sheen of sweat across his forehead and the slight shake of his hand, he was much worse than he was letting on. 

“Go back to sleep,” Hunter continued, “We’ll be at the outpost in no time.”

“‘m okay,” Echo said, but closed his eyes. It was too much effort to keep them open, but he intended on staying awake with Hunter, “’m worried about you.”

“That’s my job, brother. Just get some sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Echo felt himself drifting back under. It was certainly less painful than talking and Hunter’s warm hand wrapped around his was comforting. It reminded Echo of the transport rides with the 501st after battle, when the exhaustion was all-consuming and Fives would use his shoulder as a pillow. 

* * *

“Hunter?” Echo gasped, sitting up and immediately regretting it. He fell backwards onto a pillow that he was sure wasn’t there before, “Ow.”

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Crosshair scoffed. 

To Echo’s right were three standard-issue GAR medical beds about a foot away from the one he was laid. Crosshair was in white medical clothing, identical to what Echo was now dressed in, and his leg in a splint. The sniper looked as irritated as ever, especially since he was uncomfortably pressed up against the bed’s railing. When Echo looked over him he saw that it was because Tech, who was beginning to wake, was curled up against Crosshair’s side. The opposite railing was lowered and someone had pushed the three beds together- except Wrecker was taking up two by laying diagonal with his arms and legs askew. The large clone was snoring loudly and his back was now dressed in much neater bacta patches and gauze. 

“Is that Echo?” Tech asked sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Echo always found it odd seeing him without his goggles- it made him look much younger. 

“Where are we?” Echo said, looking down at his hands- well, hand. The cybernetic arm had been removed and his human hand was wrapped in bandages, making it difficult to move. “Where’s Hunter?” 

“We’re at a GAR outpost on Arra- the 142nd is currently occupying the base.” Crosshair explained. 

“They’re a branch of the Engineering Corps,” Tech interjected, sounding excited, “I’ve been wanting to study their construction techniques for a while now- did you know they can get a 400 man barracks up in less than two hours?”

“Quiet,” Crosshair scolded, “You’re going to overload that big brain of yours. It can’t take much more damage.” Tech rolled his eyes, but allowed Crosshair to continue. “Anyway, we got here about twelve hours ago and Hunter’s been in surgery ever since we landed.” 

“What?” Echo exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

“He lost a lot of blood and-” Tech said, but trailed off for a moment, as if he was having an issue collecting his thoughts. “And, and because we’re so different from regs, they’re having trouble finding the right sedatives to keep him under.” 

“At least that’s what they told us a few hours ago,” Crosshair said. 

Suddenly, the snoring tapered off, “Can you keep it down?” Wrecker mumbled, “Some of us are trying to get some shut eye.”

“You’ve been sleeping for eight hours, you lazy _di’kut,”_ Crosshair retorted. 

“Oh, sorry I was just blown up!”

“We were all blown up!”

Tech put his hands over his ears, “Stop- you’re making my headache worse. Which I didn’t think was possible.”

Before the arguing could continue, the door to their shared recovery room opened. A younger looking Clone, dressed in a crisp medical uniform with a data-pad tucked under his arm, stepped through the entryway. His curly dark hair was longer than what regulations permitted and an intricate patterned tattoo wrapped around his neck. 

“Glad to see that you're finally awake,” the medic said, addressing Echo, and sounded chipper for someone in his profession. “I’m CT 34-89, or Lace if you’d prefer, the CMO of the 142nd Engineering Battalion.” 

“Nice to meet you Lace,” Echo replied, “I’m Echo.”

“Oh, I know,” Lace said. “A certain Captain in the 501st has been sending me non-stop messages, asking about your condition.”

Echo smiled. “Do me a favor and tell him I’m fine- I don’t think I can sit through another lecture about being ‘reckless’ at the moment.”

“Can do. So, how are you feeling?”

“Like I was thrown through a meat grinder. But besides that? A little woozy, I guess.”

“That’s most likely from the painkillers,” Lace said, motioning towards the slow drip going into Echo’s arms, “We’re giving you the good stuff. You sustained substantial damage to your chest, arm, and to your prosthetics.” 

“So how’s our Sargent doing?” Crosshair asked impatiently, “No one is giving us any updates.”

Lace suddenly became very interested in his data-pad, staring at the screen and tapping through a display of Echo’s vitals. “I shouldn’t say until-”

“Please,” Echo interjected. “Just let us know he’s okay.”

“Well, we lost him on the table once but were able to bring him back. After that we managed to stabilize him and remove the shrapnel in his chest. His left lung was collapsed and he sustained severe lacerations to his chest and head.” Lace sighed. “You’re all lucky to be wearing modified armor- if any of you were in standard issued gear I have a feeling we would be picking up chunks from the battlefield.”

For the first time since they had been formed, the entire Bad Batch seemed to be at a loss for words. They lived their short lives constantly at the brink of death- it was part of their job description. They joked about it, about how exactly they would die or who would be the first to go. The gallows humor helped them cope. But now, the idea that their leader _actually_ crossed the line- for however brief a time- sent a chill up all of their spines. 

“He’s out of surgery now,” Lace added, sensing their distress. “We’re going to keep him under observation for a few more hours, but then we’ll bring him in here, okay?” 

“Thank you,” Echo breathed. 

“Not a problem,” Lace smiled kindly, “Your vitals are definitely improving, but I’ll come back by in an hour. Do you need anything else?”

“Could you move my bed over?” Echo asked. 

“Not a problem.” 

Lace pushed Echo’s bed to it against the one Tech and Crosshair were sharing. He then lowered the railing and dimmed the lights in the recovery room as he left. 

“Thank the force,” Crosshair said, carefully scooting over so he was partially on Echo’s bed, “Tech is hogging all the space.”

“You’re skinnier than me, therefore you need less room,” Tech said matter-of-factly, moving with Crosshair so he could tuck himself back under the sniper's arm. 

Crosshair grumbled, but shifted so that Tech could rest his head on his shoulder. Wrecker, who must have been heavily sedated, was already back asleep judging by the tell-tale sound of snoring. After a few minutes of idle conversation, Crosshair also closed his eyes. So Echo took the opportunity to get closer to the pile. Not wanting to crowd the sniper, who wasn’t always the biggest fan of physical contact, Echo moved until their shoulders barely touched- just so that Echo could feel heat radiating from another living being.

Hours ticked by and Echo found himself unable to to fall back asleep. He knew that he needed to rest in order to recover, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew that Hunter was alright. Instead, the ARC listened to the relaxing breathing of the other Batchers and patiently waited. At one point in the night Crosshair began to mumble in his sleep, his head tossing back and forth as if he were trying to shake off a bad dream. Echo grabbed the sniper’s hand and squeezed gently- not enough to wake him but hopefully give some sort of assurance. It worked, and thrashing subsided back into a peaceful sleep. 

After an excruciatingly long wait, the door opened again sometime in the early morning. Echo immediately propped himself up as far as his sore body would allow as Lace quietly pushed a gurney into the room. The medic maneuvered the bed to it against Echo’s before lowering the railing to connect it to the other four. Hunter was out cold, and his chest was covered in bandages and tubes. He also had gauze wrapped around the left side of his head, where the blood had previously matted the hair down. But as Echo looked to try and see the extent of the damage, his eyes got wide. 

“Oh no,” Echo said, mortified. 

“What is it?” Lace replied worriedly. 

“Which one of you did that?” Echo said, pointing to the side of Hunter's head where- from the neck to about an inch about the ear- the hair had been shaved away. 

“We had to clear the area to treat the laceration,” Lace explained, “I don’t see what the issue is?”

“Hunter is very peculiar about his hair,” Echo explained. “Whatever you do, never tell him the name or number of the person who used that razor, okay?”

Lace blinked a few times, obviously concerned. “I’ll, um, make a note of that in his chart. Now, he should be out for a while- he has more drugs in his system than a spice dealer. But just hit this button when he wakes up,” he motioned to a small panel on the wall behind Echo.

“Thank you, again,” Echo said sincerely. 

“Just doing my job,” Lace replied. “You’re all rather lucky, you know that right?”

“Oh, walking away from deadly explosions is a hobby for us,” Echo joked. 

The medic shook his head. “Not that. Well, you’re lucky to have survived, but I’m talking about having a brother that cares about you as much as your Sergeant does.”

“Oh.”

“When your ship landed here, he was the only one still conscious. Just barley though- apparently he ramped himself up on stimulants in order to not pass out from the blood loss. Which is the reason we had trouble sedating him. And to make matters worse, he refused to cooperate or even lay down until he saw that all of you were being treated. Nearly took one of my surgeons' head off with a knife.” 

“Sorry about that,” Echo winced.

“If you really want to make up for it, tell him to cooperate next time someone is trying to save his life. Doctors orders.” Lace said. 

“Will do.”

When Lace left, the sound of the door shutting woke Wrecker. 

“‘S that Hunter?” he mumbled sleepily. 

“Yeah, big guy. He’s here,” Echo replied. 

“Hm. Glad we’re all here.”

“Me too.”

Finally at ease, Echo settled into a light sleep. He didn’t dream and would jolt awake at the slightest movement or sound. Then, sometime in the late afternoon, he was awoken when Hunter suddenly sat straight up, gasping for air.

“Woah! Hunter, calm down- we’re okay!” Echo said, reaching out towards the Sargent. 

Hunter didn’t seem to hear him, and looked over his brothers with wide, panicked eyes.

“One, two, three- four.” Hunter counted aloud, and then left out a relieved sigh before slumping back down against the bed. 

“Good morning to you too,” Crosshair yawned and when the sniper got a good look at Hunter, his jaw dropped. “Oh no.”

Hunter, who was clearly still under the effects of the painkillers, frowned. “What’s wrong? Is everyone still in one piece?”

Tech, who was also up at this point, saw Hunter and winced. “Technically speaking-”

“Who lost a limb?” Hunter interrupted, “Where's- Wrecker!?”

“All together Sarge,” Wrecker replied and started laughing. 

“What?” Hunter demanded. 

Echo tapped the side of his own head, “They, um, had to give you a _slight_ haircut.” 

Hunter paled and as soon as he felt the stubble, the string of expletives that left his mouth sent Lace running in. 

“What is going on?!” The medic exclaimed. 

“You.” Hunter snarled, “Who did this?”

“Uh-”

“It’s not that bad,” Echo said weakly, but was trying his hardest not to join Wrecker in laughing. 

“Do you know how long it took me to grow it out!?” Hunter snapped. “Years!” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think undercuts are in right now,” Lace said weakly. 

“Not helping,” Crosshair said.

“Well, I’m just going to check your vitals,” Lace said, “Please don’t kill me.”

Hunter grumbled permission, so Lace scanned his body and typed away at the data-pad. “Um, your blood pressure is rather high right now. Besides that your condition is beginning to stabilize. I know this is a lot to process right now, so do you have any questions?”

“How long until we can be discharged?”

* * *

It took two long weeks for every member of the Bad Batch to make a full recovery. Wrecker and Crosshair healed quickly after a few treatments in a bacta tank, although Lace had to constantly remind them that ‘ _Yes, walking on a fractured leg will make it worse.’_ Echo’s own recovery was delayed by the extensive damage done to his cybernetics. However, one of the perks of staying at a base full of engineers was that there were a few tech-savy Clones that were able to work through the repairs. It was nowhere near as good as Tech’s work, but it would last for a while.

Initially, everyone had thought that Tech was recovering from the concussion just. So well in fact, Lace went from having them wake Tech on the hour to just every four or five. But three days into their stay, Tech had settled on Hunter’s gurney, complaining of a headache. 

“I don’t know, it just feels off,” Tech explained when Hunter asked what exactly was wrong. 

“Do you need me to call for Lace?”

“No, I think I’m fine- I just need to sleep it off.”

Hunter and Echo exchanged concerned looks, but shrugged. He had been doing so well, Echo just assumed it was just a bad day. And he had been right- just not in the way he expected- when Hunter tried to wake Tech a few hours later. 

“Tech, come on. Wake up.” Hunter gently shook Tech’s shoulder. “Tech, this isn’t funny, open your eyes.”

“What’s wrong?” Wrecker asked. 

“He’s not waking up. Tech, can you hear me?” Hunter gently tapped the side of Tech’s face. “Someone call Lace.”

Before Hunter could finish speaking, Crosshair had already reached over and hit the emergency button. Tech’s eyes suddenly fluttered open and he mumbled something incoherent. Echo helped Hunter sit Tech upright, but the smaller clone was looking past them into the middle distance. His brown eyes were unfocused, the pupils still constricted, and slowly blinking. He didn’t even react when Lace and two other medics burst into the room. 

“What happened?” Lace asked calmly, taking out a small light and shining it into Tech’s eyes. 

“It was hard to wake him, and now he’s not responding,” Hunter replied, “He- he fell asleep about six hours ago.”

“Okay- it’s normal to see relapses with severe concussions,” Lace said reassuringly, “We’re going to take him in for scans to be sure.”

The medic motioned for the other clones to put Tech on the emergency gurney, but Hunter still had Tech cradled in his lap, holding him tight. 

“Hunter, they need to take Tech in,” Echo said, watching as Hunter’s posture became defensive- almost aggressive, “Hunter, they’re going to help.”

Hunter blinked, seeming to realize his error, and released his grip on Tech. The medical team gently laid Tech onto the gurney and began to push it out of the room. But then, Hunter got to his feet and began to pace after them. 

“Woah, you need to lay back down,” Lace turned on his heel and put an arm out to stop the Sargent. “Tech will be fine with us.”

“I need to be sure-” Hunter started between gritted teeth, the effort that it was taking to stay up seemed to be overwhelming. 

“You’re going to reopen your wounds,” Lace warned. “Sit down- that’s an order.”

Before Hunter could retaliate- and Echo was sure that he was about to cause an incident- Wrecker was up and grabbing Hunter. 

“I’m sure Tech’s okay,” Wrecker said, pulling Hunter back towards the beds. 

Hunter reluctantly complied and was maneuvered to sit between Wrecker and Crosshair. Echo was sure that if it wasn’t for them, Hunter would be frantically pacing the room. 

“Tech’s got a thick skull, he’ll be alright,” Crosshair said lightly. 

“He, he wasn’t waking up,” Hunter said shakily, “I thought-” He trailed off and started to breath heavily. 

Echo had been through enough panic attacks to know when one was about to start. Unfortunately, both Crosshair and Wrecker were also able to recognize the signs. Wrecker quickly brought Hunter into a hug, using the physical contact to ground him. 

“Just breath,” Echo said. “Tech is alive- we’re all alive. We’re all safe. We’re on Arra with the 142nd.”

Hunter nodded, “Yeah. I know- I’m okay.” He seemed to calm down, but didn’t ask for Wrecker to let him go. So the four of them sat in anxious silence for hours until Lace returned, informing them that Tech was going to be just fine. 

* * *

After that terrible night, the worst part about recovery was staving off the boredom- which in and of itself was exhausting. Due to the concussion, Tech wasn’t allowed to be around bright lights which included data-pad screens. Knowing that Tech didn’t do very well without an outlet, Hunter figured out a compromise. Lace was kind enough to ask around the 142nd for fidget toys, which turned out to be abundant in a battalion full of restless engineers. So Tech would keep his hands busy with the fidget toys as the rest of the Batch took turns reading to him. Even Wrecker would read from the technical manuals, but it normally resulted in Tech stopping him every minute or so to correct a pronunciation or explain what exactly he was reading. But more often than not it was Hunter that read to him- Echo noted that Hunter was keeping an extra close eye on Tech. But, it kept Tech occupied. 

Crosshair and Wrecker, on the other hand, found a much simpler way to keep themselves entertained. One of the fidget toys Lace ended up bringing was just a normal, palm sized rubber ball which Wrecker immediately took and began to throw. It would ricochet across the room before always coming to a stop right in Wrecker’s hand. Crosshair, itching for a competition, goaded Wrecker until they both devised an elaborate game. It involved a point system and boundaries and quadrants and rules that were lost upon Echo by the third day of their tournament. He was pretty sure Crosshair was winning, but wasn’t quite sure. 

The only one out of their group who seemed to be having issues recovering was Hunter. His wounds were healing much slower- in part from him reopening the laceration across his chest two different times. Echo also noticed that he wasn’t sleeping well, which was evident from the dark circles that hung underneath his eyes. But he wasn’t the only person noticing Hunter’s decline. 

“Hunter’s not recovering as well as I would like to see,” Lace said one day when they were in a private examination room and Echo was having his mechanical arm refit, “And I have a feeling it's due to a… psychological stress.”

Echo stiffened- any talk of a ‘psych eval’ for a clone was effectively a death sentence. So he chuckled nervously, “Well, you know that Clones were bred to withstand any stresses.”

“You don’t have to worry Echo, I’m not in the business of reporting these types of things up the chain of command.” Lace said, “So, if Hunter was ‘hypothetically’ going through a type of post-traumatic disorder he would need a support system to help.” 

“I know, but it’s just so hard to get to him,” Echo said with a sigh. “He cares about the Batch so much I think that he forgets that he’s also a member, and that he needs to also look out for himself.”

“Interesting way to put it. Based on my observations, I would say that he is feeling an immense amount of guilt over what happened.”

“But it was no one's fault! We just didn’t have all the intel we should have.”

“Well that logically makes sense,” Lace explained, “But Hunter was also the least injured, and the only one left standing. It must have been frightening for him.”

Echo nodded, remembering the fear in Hunter’s voice as he called out over the comms. “I think I understand.”

“Good- and if you could also convince him not to murder me for shaving his hair, that would also be grand.”

That night Tech had fallen asleep early, curled against Wrecker and leaving the space beside Hunter open. Crosshair and Wrecker were busy getting one last game in, so Echo pointed next to Hunter.

“Do you mind-?” Echo asked. 

Hunter shrugged and scooted to give Echo more room, “So ahead- I think Tech is out for the night.”

Echo grabbed an extra pillow and settled in. 

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Echo said, gesturing towards the shaved area of Hunter’s head, “You could always cut the other side, do a mohawk.”

“No way,” Hunter said, sounding mortified, “That would look awful. I’ll just suffer being uneven for the next year.”

Echo laughed, “Good luck. Mine just started growing back- but that’s probably because of the freezer burn.”

That got a low chuckle from Hunter. “Gonna keep it in regs?”

“I haven’t given it that much thought, to be honest. Probably not- I would like to see what it’s like a bit longer.”

“Just a warning- it’s hard to get a flow as perfect as mine,” Hunter said, running a hand through his long hair. 

They both fell into a comfortable silence and watched the end of Wrecker and Crosshair’s game- which Cross apparently had won by a lot. They all went to sleep shortly after- or at least tried to. Echo could tell that Hunter hadn’t fully fallen asleep by the way he was constantly shifting. 

“Hey Hunter,” Echo finally whispered.

“Hmm?” Hunter replied. 

“I just realized that I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For pulling me out of that rubble,” Echo said, “Being trapped there, being crushed was terrifying- but I knew as soon as I heard your voice that I was going to be okay.” Echo heard Hunter swallowing heavily. “And not just that- for bringing me into the Batch, making sure I was welcome and safe.”

“Echo-” Hunter said, but seemed to be at a loss for words, so Echo continued. 

“And now I want to do the same for you. So- are you okay?”

The heavy pause hung in the air, and as the minutes ticked by Echo thought that maybe he was out of line. But when Hunter finally took in a deep, shaky breath, Echo realized that he was _crying._ It was a silent sob, but in the dim light Echo could make out the streams of tears that raced down his cheeks. 

“When- when no one would answer the comms,” Hunter said, trying to keep what little composure was left, “I thought I had failed you all, that I had gotten you all killed. And if that happened… I don’t know how I would be able to live with myself. I don’t think I would be able to.”

Echo didn’t know how to respond, so instead wrapped his arms around Hunter and held him- just like Hunter had so often done for him after he had been brought back from the Techno-Union. Hunter continued to silently cry until there were no tears left. Echo wondering how long it had been since Hunter had felt the catharsis of crying. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Echo said quietly, tucking Hunter’s head under his chin. “We all love you- we’re all here for you.”

Hunter didn’t respond, and Echo realized that he had fallen back asleep- probably from the exhaustion. 

“Is he okay?” Tech whispered suddenly. 

Echo winced, “How much did you hear?”

“Only the sad bits,” Wrecker said, “Never heard Hunter that sad before.”

“Good thing we’re never going to speak about it,” Crosshair hissed. 

“No, I think this was good for him,” Echo said. “He just needs to be taken care of, for once.”

The rest of the Batch hummed in agreement, and shifted closer together without another word. 

* * *

When Lace entered the recovery room early in the morning with the discharge paperwork in hard, he stopped in the doorway. This odd group that had come crawling to the base half dead two weeks ago were now all curled together, dead asleep. In the center was the Sargent- who for the first time since they had met, looked relaxed. Lace smiled and slipped back into the hallway, hoping the troubled group could find a bit of happiness and contentment in these rare moments of peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Umm this is my attempt of digging myself out of the writers block I've been in since November. If anyone wants to drop any prompts / inspo. in the comments, maybe I can get around to writing it to keep myself motivated. Also I've been in such a Bad Batch mood since the trailer dropped last week. 
> 
> (PS If you read my other multi-chapter Bad Batch fix, I promise I haven't abandoned it lol. Once I've gotten out of this block I'm going to finish it up + a sequel)


End file.
